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C.D. Warner, et al., comp. The Library of the World’s Best Literature.
An Anthology in Thirty Volumes. 1917.


By Richard Dehmel (1863–1920)

Translation of Ludwig Lewisohn

THE CRIMSON roses burn and glow,

Softly the dark leaves stir and shake,

And I am in the grass awake.

Oh, wert thou here,

For soon the mid of night will break.

Into the lake the moonbeams flow,

The garden gate hides her from view,

The moveless willows stand arow,

My burning forehead seeks the dew;

Oh, I have never loved thee so!

Oh, I have never so deeply known

As often as our close embrace

Made each the other, why thy face

Grew pallid and thy heart made moan

When all my being sought thy grace.

And now—oh, hadst thou seen how there

Two little fireflies crept alow;

I nevermore from thee will fare,

Oh, wert thou here …

For still the crimson roses glow….